The Sheik's Son(89)

Sophie snapped out of her reverie as Alain made another discovery, placing it in his coat pocket.

Love him? Sophie focused on the green park below and thought of her words. Yes. She did love him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to rule with him and make him a great, respected leader. She wanted to be with him always. Suddenly she wanted to cry. She should not have done this.

She should not have let the inspector manipulate her this way. She should have gone to Sebastian and asked for his help. She should have let him take care of this and trusted him to do the right thing. Breaking into her father’s office, even to stop a criminal, was the wrong thing to do. Sophie felt frustrated at her helplessness.

“Let’s go. We’re done,” Alain hissed at her in the dark office.

Sophie picked up the lantern and moved to the door. Opening it slowly, she looked out and, seeing no one, she exited the office. Alain followed her, relocking the door with his tools.

“Come.” They moved through the hallways the same way they had entered, with a silent shadow following them.

Alain took the lantern from her when they parted in the street. “This was a good night’s work.”

Sophie nodded and turned to part from him.

“If and when I need you again, it will be the same as before. I will send you a note.” He spoke quietly.

“What? I thought you said once you find the papers, this is at an end!” she argued.

“Indeed. But this is just the beginning. Think of all the offices and information we have access to. No one will question you and I can bring Paris to heel.” He seemed to gloat.

“There is no we, inspector. I helped you this once. I won’t do it again.” She was irritated. He had lied to her.

Alain smiled in the dark street. The lantern threw shadows on his face and he seemed demonic. “You will. You have no choice, madame.”

Sophie wanted to rake her nails over his demon face but he made a mocking bow and turned away from her.

Sebastian watched the couple part on the street and he took a carriage home.

***

Sophie wearily entered the darkened house. She had given in to tears on the carriage ride home and cursed the feeling of powerlessness. She made her way slowly up the stairs.

It was almost midnight so she knew she would have to undress herself as she would not wake Marie. She closed the door to her room and almost sagged against it.

She was foolish and naïve. She should have stopped it all before it began. She had only herself to blame. The fire was burning low in the fireplace and she didn’t even stoke it. She moved to her dressing table, standing before it.

She knew once the inspector achieved his desired commissioner status, he would become nothing more than a power-hungry monster who she’d helped create. She pulled the combs from her hair and threw them onto her dressing table.

“Bonsoir,” came the quiet, masculine voice.

Sophie whirled around to find Sebastian in the corner of her room on the small couch that overlooked the garden.

“Sebastian.”

“Wife,” he returned.

“What are you doing here? It’s so late,” she asked.

“Yes it is. Very late. I could ask you the same question.”

“I was dining with my father and grandmother. I left word with Marie. Didn’t she tell you?”

“No. I haven’t seen Marie.”

“And you? Where have you been?” she questioned him.

Sebastian smiled. Two could play this little farce. “With Etienne.”

Sophie felt the table under her fingers and watched as his eyes moved over her.

“Is that a mourning gown?” he asked, wondering what she would say in return.

“Yes. It is. I-I was thinking of having it dyed another color. I wanted to see if it still fit.”

“Does it?”

“What?” she asked.

“Still fit?”

“Yes.” She breathed out.

Sophie moved to the mirror to check the back of her dress. The mourning gown was a particularly cumbersome gown with dozens of buttons down the back instead of laces. Marie had helped her into it, but it would take some maneuvering to undo the buttons alone.

Sebastian watched her unbutton one, then two buttons of the dress, but it was difficult alone. He rose and moved to her as Sophie watched him in the mirror. His dark hair was uncombed and he wore only his breeches and white shirt, untied at the neck.

He spoke in her ear. “Let me.”

She watched him in the mirror as his hands went to her back. She felt the first one pop open as he unbuttoned it.

He had beat her home intentionally. He had wanted to wait inside her room and see her face as she entered from the evening. He doubted the man was her lover. After following her, he had waited outside the door of the office and only heard the rustling of papers once they had entered together. There had been no conversation and the entire evening had him baffled. What on earth was she doing?